


Hazy Light

by odietamo53



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Group Sex, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odietamo53/pseuds/odietamo53
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's floundering following his breakup with Sophia. He seeks comfort in the arms of strangers but finds his way into the beds of his bandmates, reeking of sex and looking for something he can't name. Eventually the come together and Liam can't believe how much his boys love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hazy Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cannothandlethepretty (wali21)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wali21/gifts).



It’s the taste in his mouth that alerts him every time, foreign on his typically minty fresh tongue. Next comes the smell, cloying in its overpowering way women seem to miss when applying too liberally; sometimes musky, warm and comforting to his nose. Then everything else follows, less of a crash than it used to be the first two or three times it happened. Now he stretches slowly, lets his fingers find and brush heated skin before cracking his eyes open, oftentimes it’s still dark and there’s little to see anyway.

He lets the uncomfortable itch crawl over his skin inch by inch until he can barely stay still. Something about her will latch on and drain the life out of him. A hitch in her breath, the coldness of her toes, the way she won’t stop rolling into him. Things she never did. Things he’s not used to and doesn’t want to get used to. 

So he always sneaks out. He’s not embarrassed but he feels bad, for the girl, doesn’t want anyone to feel used by him but too caught up in himself to keep from leaving her alone with a tenner for bus fare and a note that apologizes for his absence, no signature added. 

Every hotel is different. Sometimes they’re not even all on the same floor, so he doesn’t get picky, stumbles his way into the room of whatever keycard his pocket produces first. He’s not always sure whose bed he’s climbing into until he’s against them, hands seeking out familiar paths in skin and hair. Harry and Louis usually ply him into talking, Louis slightly scolding while Harry makes mundane conversation luring him to restful sleep. Zayn wakes up long enough to escape for a balcony cigarette, like he needs a bit of nicotine to deal with his best mate pressed against him reeking of his latest mistake.

Tonight Niall simply rolls over and gathers Liam in his arms before snuffling back to sleep. He’s smaller and leaner but envelops him in a way that makes Liam’s heart ache more, like maybe his real mistake wasn’t the one he made a few hours back, but rather the one he began years ago. One that ended suddenly, without warning, startling him into a panic that left him searching for comfort in the arms of men and women, sometimes both at once, filling his hotel room with the stench of sweat and sex and disappointment until he couldn’t quite breathe anymore. 

And he fled under the sheets of a dark skinned boy who kissed the tears off his cheeks and ignored the stench of cheap perfume to hold him close. A boy who kissed his tears away until no more came and he moved to lips chasing wetness. A boy who kissed him until they were both shaken and had to sleep with a pillow between them. The next morning Zayn was gone before Liam woke up and he vowed to never put his friend in that position again. 

So he began rotating boys.

It hadn’t been his intention. But he’d picked up two girls after the show the next night and then pushed his way into Harry’s bed before they’d even left. Harry made him shower first, told him his breath reeked of pussy, but he’d wrapped his impossibly long limbs around Liam and nothing much mattered anymore. By the time he made his way back around to Zayn no one was questioning Liam’s late night escapes, leaving room in their beds just in case. 

“Li,” Niall murmurs in his ear, obviously trying hard to escape the haze of sleep. “You can’t keep doing this. You’re going to kill yourself, please stop.” But Liam’s shaking his head and pressing close enough that their noses bump hard and foreheads crack together. Liam’s hands threaded through Niall’s pillow mussed hair keeps him from jerking back. The younger boy stumbles over the last two words. 

“Liam please.” Liam’s pulling and pushing, fighting some imaginary force around Niall’s body. He’s asking, silently waiting for someone to say yes, anyone. 

The door opens and dark figures slip in before sliding the bolt home. He doesn’t look up, recognizes those shuffling gaits anywhere. Body after body slips in around him until they’re all pressed together in a single five-way hug. But Liam’s still holding on to his anchor, breathing into Niall’s mouth but not touching, waiting impatiently for permission. 

“It’s okay.” Harry’s curls brush his cheek as he murmurs in Liam’s ear. “We’re here for you, take what you need.” And Harry’s long fingered hands are spread across his chest, holding him back even as he urges him forward. 

Niall closes the gap. Somehow, even with Harry’s gut twisting words, he can’t bring himself to do it. For weeks now he’s been taking the plunge with every stranger he can sneak past security, but this means something, this one may actually count and he can’t make himself plunge in head first. Niall’s kiss is gentle, a slow exploration tickling the sensitive edges of his mouth. He wants to push forward into it, deepen it, but hands soothe his tense, trembling muscles, too many hands. 

A head appears over Niall’s shoulder and Louis leans in, scraping sharp teeth down his jaw, drawing whines from his constricted throat. He’d come into the room in only boxers, someone, he thinks Harry, has made quick work of getting rid of them, kissing lines up his bare back. 

“Zayn,” he whimpers, reaching out for the one boy he hasn’t felt, the only one holding back from the comfort, withholding everything he needs right now and he can’t understand why someone who care about him so much would do this. 

The dark haired boy crawls forward, lean body hovering over his broad, muscled one, eyes imploring even in the low light. “Are you sure?” Zayn’s voice is soft, all the others have settled into stillness. “Tell us to stop as soon as it’s too much. Tell us to stop when. Please tell us. Li, promise you’ll stop us.”

“Can’t, need this. Because I can’t stand them, any of them. They’re not her, nothing like her and I can’t fucking stand it. But I love you guys more, you’re the only thing I’ve loved more than her and only this can replace her in my mind. Nothing will be able to live up to this memory of my boys, but that’s okay because I will always have the four of you. I may not have anything else but I will always, always have you.” Liam smashes his lips to Zayn’s, clinking teeth and bumping noses but Zayn’s returning it with a ferocity that lights up Liam’s body. 

They’ve got it. They’ve found the answer to all their problems and it couldn’t be more fucked up or co-dependent or maladaptive but they’re going to hold onto it so hard one or all of them may eventually crack. 

So much is happening at once at it’s all focused on him, four sets of hands and mouths and tongues. Four people touching him in ways that reach past skin. Lips skirt down his chest, teeth catching and bruising. Two people work their tongues up his had cock, someone slides up and sucks. He bucks his hips but hands press him back into the mattress, too much weight spread across his body to possibly fight. 

He’s making noises he never has before, refusing to bite back the moans that rumble through his chest, wanting desperately to touch but thankful for the forceful grounding of his taunt, overworked body. 

“So gorgeous,” Zayn’s murmuring between kisses, petting the hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Look at how well you’re doing.” 

Liam relaxes into it, trying to quell the desperate arch of his back and fingers skirt over his hole, pressing until they’re working him knuckle deep. Another joins in and Liam has no idea just how many people are inside of him right now but he turns his face into Zayn’s lap and settles in. 

He’s stretched until he can’t force himself still any longer, seeking any sensation he mouths at Zayn’s hard cock pressed tight to the front of his briefs. Zayn shifts to move his hips back and Liam issues such a sharp, cracked ‘please’ that Zayn pulls down the stretchy material and offers himself up to Liam’s questing mouth. 

The fingers are gone and Liam wants to cry with it. Zayn’s leaning forward even as he chokes on a soft breath, asks, “Do you want to know who is going to fuck you first?” But Liam shakes his head, pleading with his eyes in the scant light, refusing to pull himself all the way off the hard flesh. He doesn’t want to know. He wants them all to run together. Wants to remember them as a unit. No one individual will get any more of his love than another, they’re all his everything and he’s drowning in it. 

Someone’s there, filling him and everything is so tight and hot that he’s got to pull back and cry out. Zayn’s gripping Liam’s hands in his own and Liam is torn between fighting it and pushing into it. Everything stops and they’re all soothing at his emotionally torn body, soothing until the trembling stops and Liam’s lost in a haze. 

There’s four of them and they do things to him no one should be okay with. His best friends bringing him to orgasm until he’s coming dry and hands-free. He stops begging. 

Light slowly filters into the room, rising brighter and stronger from behind gauzy curtains. The scene before him comes into sharper focus, details working themselves out and Liam finds he doesn’t need to keep his eyes shut to make them one unit. 

They move in sync. Words were left behind long ago, no one speaking after Niall opened Liam up and fucked him until Liam’s toes curled in the sheets and sweat beaded along his hairline. There’s minimal fumbling and bumped body parts, no awkward shifting around one another with more people than the bed should feasibly hold. 

They’re all acutely aware of just how much meaning each action holds and just how necessary it all is to keep them together. 

At some point they’d realized just how fractured they were. They were becoming victim to natural drifting apart, spending time separate outside of tours and making new friends or running back to old. The damage they were doing was imperceptible in single actions but all together was killing them. They didn’t fight but didn’t quite know each other in that intimate way they’d been so famous for, a way they secretly loved and treasured. 

Now they’re mending. Liam’s public breakup and private breakdown rekindled that fire in them. They’re taking that step they were always meant to take but too scared to acknowledge. Now they have an excuse and they’re falling in headfirst, not one at a time but all at once. 

The sun is up. Casting soft yellow light across the white bed filled with pale bodies. They’re all so overwhelmed and spent they can’t not touch. The air is cool and skin feels chilled but everyone’s hot and melting back into the mattress. 

They’re not fixed, but they’re working towards something great. Liam still hurts and he’s going to field questions about Sophia until nosy reporters stop trying to push their buttons. They’ve stumbled into something that overpowers those feelings. 

One day Harry rushes in and tells them all that she’s done an interview, angry at the messy split she’d lashed out and said a few things before trying frantically to take them back but it’s too late. The interview has been published and no amount of public apologizes is going to make them take it down. Liam takes it in stride for two hours until he starts itching.

They’re backstage with a few higher profile fans and Liam’s flirting a bit too hard. He’s trailing soft touches along her arm and shoulder, laughing with her at jokes that don’t quite make sense and Louis sees. He sidles up with a few quick, cheerful words and somehow has her moving away with an amiable wave. 

Louis runs a hand up his back, curls his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Liam’s neck and tugs. Liam follows him obediently to the room where the rest of the band waits restlessly. The show hasn’t even started and Liam was trying to pick up. He crawls onto the couch horrified with himself. Placing himself at their mercy and they know what he needs. 

Firm hands caress him over his clothes, tugging at hair and nipping at his lips until he feels like they may bleed but he’s calming. They saw when he needed them. He didn’t say anything but they noticed and moved to help before he could slip. 

“We’ve got you,” Niall is telling him, laugh soft when Liam huffs out a moan. “Got the prettiest birds right here mate.” He gestures to Harry and Zayn kneeling before him and Zayn makes a nasty gesture before working Liam’s pants down to his ankles. 

They’re fast this time. No time, no room or resources for fucking right now. Instead mouths seek hot skin. Harry’s working his tongue around the head of his dick with such dexterity he’s practically coming imagining what else he could do. Zayn’s got Niall in hand while one of his legs hooks over Liam’s and they’re kissing. Liam wants to look at the lips stretched around his dick. He wants to melt into the tongue pressing to his. 

Niall comes across his chin and Liam thinks he can do this. Zayn starts licking away the mess and Liam comes across Harry’s tongue with a huff and thinks any worrying he’d done about that night was so misled he wants to cry. 

He’d been scared for days afterwards that they’d done it all for him, they’d taken him and healed him the best way they knew how but it was for him and only him. Now he knows how wrong he was. They’re reveling in each other, raunchy sneaking blowjobs in the dressing room because Liam needs them but also because they want. 

“You’re thinking too hard,” Louis says to him, handing over a damp towel so Liam can wipe himself down. “We all get in trouble when you think too hard.”

Liam smiles up at him, tears threatening to glisten in his eyes but he blinks them back. He’s not going to cry because everything is so suddenly perfect that it’ll be a while before it even fully registers. Maybe he’ll cry over it next month. 

“I cause trouble,” he shoots back, shaking his head to clear the clutter and reaching out for his friend’s hand. “Bloody useless words coming from you Tommo, bane of our crews’ existence.”

“Ah, but the love of your sad puppy life,” Louis crows, pecking a quick kiss to the tip of Liam’s nose and dancing away delighted. Liam figures he’s fucked.


End file.
